


Nice Things.

by tracinginthesand



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Polyamory, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Threesome - M/M/M, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 14:20:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2232219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracinginthesand/pseuds/tracinginthesand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark doesn't get to keep nice things. But this once, maybe he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What You See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony sees something he wants. He's not used to that.

Tony once told Natasha that sleeping with people was like giving them a vaccine for caring about him. She never looked at him the same way again. She was gentler. He appreciated it.

He was just getting home from DC, from another hearing and another set of meetings. He yanked his tie off, shoving it in his pocket, unbuttoning the top three buttons on his silk shirt. It still felt like it was choking him, and he shook off the desire to strip right there in the elevator. It opened on the first residential floor, the main room. He stepped out, and was brought up short by the sight in front of him. Bucky and Steve, necking on the couch.

Bucky was straddling Steve, one metal and one flesh hand cupping his face. Steve's hands were in Bucky's hair, and they moved on each other with the familiarity of men who did this so often that what felt good became as natural as breathing. They were beautiful. Like Ares and Apollo, gold and silver gods. And just two guys who'd been in love since they were kids, who cut their teeth on each other's fists and still came back for more.

Love like that. Tony had killed, many times, for love like that. For that love.

He made no noise as he backed up into the elevator and keyed it to the private entrance to his suite. He didn't stop staring until the doors closed.


	2. What You Get

Tony doesn't get to keep nice things

He makes them to be destroyed, alone in his workshop late at night. Brilliant things, crushed by the end of the next week in a fight. And such fights. It's incredible, a blaze of glory for each of his misbegotten stars. He's best at weapons, graceful, frightening things. Half of what he creates he deletes permanently so no one knows what he's truly capable of. So they can never use his city-killers, water-poisoners, child-maimers, the ultimate equation of all human endeavor adding up to death.

His suits are his shells, and he takes such care with them. They protect him, after all. He takes care of his team, too. Beautiful, precious weapons. He can't make more of them, he would never want to.

He's stroking the new arm, the creation he has spent the most time on in his life. So careful. Everything tooled by hand or fabricated in the workshop. Nothing left to chance. Everything measured and remeasured. He drives himself crazy with his own precision. Servos and gears, tiny hydraulic pistons for the finger movement inspired by Luke's hand in _Empire Strikes Back_ , the movie he was watching the night he realized he was in love with Bucky Barnes.

They were all in the main room. The team assembled for fights and catching their favorite time travelers up on the future. Natasha held Clint carefully against her, pointed chin resting delicately in his hair as he lounged between her legs. Bruce sprawled in an armchair, reading a paper on his iPad and watching over the tops of his glasses. Thor and Jane cuddled at one end of the couch, Bucky and Steve at the other end. Tony in the middle, a happy ringleader. Happy and lonely. As he watched Bucky flex his own metal hand in response to Luke's, Tony was hit with a rush of purpose. It was no less than the Winter Soldier deserved.

He's been there the whole time with Bucky. From the first day he brought himself in to the time he unhooked Bucky's arm so he could go to Pride in combat fatigues, a veteran of his own private war, not to mention World War II. He admires the man's strength, his flexibility in the brain pan. He knows why Steve loves him. Bucky is the definition of invincible summer.

And Steve. God, but Tony can't help it. He loves Steve, too. He lets Steve lead him into battle and out. He flies under the Captain's shield for all the right reasons. And one very wrong one. He flies with Steve because if something goes wrong, something that he can't get in the way of and stop, it's going to be him who carries Steve's body to Bucky. No one else. That's going to be his job. Visor down, that impossibly large, heavy body cradled like a baby's in his red and gold arms, brought home from the last war he had to fight. This is why Tony doesn't sleep. He doesn't like the thoughts that come right before.

When he finally gets Steve's hands on him, he doesn't expect it to be in a lusting rage, although he can't complain too much. He was a little worked up, too. He never gets to touch Bucky's hips. His adoration is strictly limited to his left arm and shoulder. So it was a clean kind of envy, watching Bruce make an adjustment to Bucky's stance while showing him a new yoga pose. And then Steve stopped dead in his tracks as he walked through the gym, went red, and in his defense it was a pretty suggestive position the two of them were in, but they didn't seem to notice. All Tony said was "Whoa, tiger, your man looks good with big, green, and ragey," and the breath was knocked out of him. Looking into Steve's furious face, Tony couldn't help it. He likes fire. He kissed him, and was instantly kissed back. Taken over. All that possessiveness left him weak, wishing someone wanted him that way.

Not for him, though. Not that nice thing. He thinks about it when Bucky shows up two hours later, sliding his phone into his back pocket and crossing his arms. Tony expects to be on the receiving end of that metal arm. He doesn't expect to be pulled into a soft hug, to let out that breath he didn't think he was holding, to start breathing hard, not crying, just panting. Bucky sits him down on his bench and kneels in front of him and they just talk about Tony and Steve and desire, and not being normal. Tony feels his lips curving. He feels himself unclenching. Bucky is explaining certain things about Steve, his urges, his talents, and how those intersect.

"He likes being in control when nothing's on the line. He likes having the good things, as many as possible. And you're so good, Tony." Tony realizes that Bucky sees how careful he is, how much he tries to make it good for them, his precious team. He protects them in the field and off. Makes their floors reflect who they are and what they need. Bucky sees.

Bucky squeezes his knees and makes him an offer he would have to be as stupid as he is smart to refuse.

"Let's make it good for all of us, Slick. Lady Luck's got her work cut out for her with Cap, god knows, but she's horny and always had a soft spot for me, anyway."

Tony shivers at the promise in Bucky's dark eyes. One nice thing to keep, he prays. Just one.


	3. What You Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no way to be ready. Not for Bucky and Steve. Not for Tony.

Tony isn't ready.

He's up for anything, but there is no way to be ready when a pair of super-soldiers waltz into his lab. Bucky's human arm is draped around Steve's shoulders, content and excited already, Tony can see the outline of his erection through his workout pants. He's watching Tony with predatory intent, making Tony glad that Hydra never sent the Winter Soldier to his door. Part of his mind spirals away into why that might be. None of the options are appealing.

Steve looks bashful, at least until Bucky puts his lips up to his ear and says something, eyes still on Tony. Steve bites off a groan and his posture straightens, some of the constant insecurity bleeding from his expression. Tony has to know what Bucky said, but it's less important because Steve is looking at him now.

They come toward him, and stop a few feet away. 

"Tony," Steve begins, and his voice isn't like it is in the field. It's warm, inviting, a little unsure of its reception. "Would you like to be our man?"

He's tongue-tied, which probably hasn't happened more than a handful of times in his life. There are things he could say, of course, but they don't seem right. He just looks at them all silver and gold, gods in their own right, wrought from the earth, and feels like Hephaestus, weak, puny, trapped in an inadequate body, humbled before Ares and Apollo.

And just when the torrent of self-loathing is about to overwhelm him, Bucky tenses in response to the flickering in his eyes, and holds out his metal hand to Tony. He finds he can't resist the soothing mechanical whir. His own hand comes out. Bucky's fingers fold around his so gently, but too loosely, and Steve brings his arm up as Bucky draws him in, catching Tony's waist. Now they are all pressed together, Tony surrounded, his arms around Steve's neck and Bucky's waist. He feels like if he's dead, he must have deserved heaven after all. Bucky is thrilled, pressing his cheek into Tony's hair, and Steve... 

Steve is enraptured by the way Tony feels against them, narrower, though by no means without muscle. Just leaner, more compact, vulnerable, precious. A man to be admired, rolled around in one's mind like butterscotch candy, so quick, so clever, flying all over. Steve wants to be his anchor. He's surprised at how deep that ache goes. His arms tighten, and when two faces look up at him, one quizzical, one pleased and understanding, he wants to throw back his head and laugh, or howl. He has never felt stronger than he does in this moment.

The first kiss is Bucky's. They agreed, this was his idea and Tony is his friend first. Also, if Steve is going to freak out better they know it now. Bucky flicks his eyebrows, looking just like the vibrant flirt he used to be--maybe might be again, and then lowers his mouth to Tony's, who groans sharply, once, and gives himself to the gentle contact like he's not going to get anything else. Not right, baby, Steve thinks. You're getting everything now. He can't resist them in combination, pale and olive skin, and he never knew what Bucky looks like kissing, how his love, his fella, his best friend's lips immediately look swollen, how his body cants towards the connection, glorious in his want. He has felt how wrecked Bucky gets just from kisses, but he's never seen it. Any worry over possessiveness evaporates. It's there, oh yes, the gripping, churning need to keep safe, to hold fast, to satisfy and love and have and in some moments to control and take and mark--but it covers both of them, suddenly. He can't help it, watching Tony's mouth with the goatee he wears so he looks older than fifteen, even now, and his eyelashes against his cheeks, the way he knows what he's doing because Bucky has begun to moan, soft little pants from Tony's kisses. Steve's arms tighten again, and Tony gets nervous, tensing up, before Steve slides his hand up so gently to cup the back of Tony's head.

"Safe, nothing's gonna hurt," Steve says softly. He doesn't have the right words, words are so hard, and kisses Tony instead to convince him that he's not in danger, will never be in danger here. Tony melts into him, and Bucky is right about how Tony needs them, and it's so much. Then he kisses Bucky, hard, deep, sending his lover arching against him like he's being electrified, and now he's kissing Tony again because he can, he _can_ , reducing each of them to slicks of needing sugar against him, any way he wants. It swirls inside him, rich and dark and satisfying.

Tony pulls away after a few minutes of being passed back and forth, and through the haze of lust Steve sees he's still distracted. He wants to erase it in that moment, but Bucky tilts his head, interested, so he calms himself down. "Nice to see you," Tony says, "but I need to keep working on the arm for tomorrow." He sounds nervous, but firm. Steve nods, understanding something that something fundamental is happening, that Tony is showing himself to them, what he perceives as imperfection, what he's sure in his heart will drive them away. Steve knows better, has known how it was going to be. He just smiles. Bucky talks first.

"We know. Just wanted to come say hi. Can we stay? Will it distract you?"

"No," Tony says, again with the regretful defiance, like they're going to peg him for the freak he is. Bucky just grins. 

"I'm really looking forward to the arm," he says. Tony smiles wider, more cocky, and his voice is full of promises of all kinds when he speaks next. 

"I'm gonna make it so good for you, Bucky." 

Steve makes a noise low in his throat from the bolt of lust those words send into his groin, and Tony flinches, is skittish still, which just kills him, his sweetheart being scared of him.

He reaches out, stroking a finger down Tony's cheek. "We're the ones who're gonna make it good for you, baby," he says. "We'll be on the couch when you get tired." There is such surprised delight at that from Tony, Steve's heart clenches. He and Bucky give Tony one last hug, and set him free to his workbench, where they can see a shining metal arm coming together, being assembled by hand by the finest mind since Da Vinci.

They sink onto the deep, squishy couch, Steve putting his arm around Bucky, holding him close. It is surprisingly arousing watching how slow, for once, Tony is going. He seems to have forgotten about them, and his clever hands are stroking all over each piece of metal with such care, such single-minded intensity. Bucky's mouth is slightly open as he watches the movement of Tony's shoulder blades under his long-sleeve t-shirt, the way his thighs and ass stand out when he squats in front of the table to get on eye level with his creation. Steve catches Bucky's eye, and slides to his knees in front of the couch. "This is how you're loved," he tells his unexpected dark-eyed miracle, pulling his pants down and taking him so tenderly into his mouth.

Bucky lies against the back of the couch, watching one of his lovers build him a missing piece, and feeling the other's lips slipping around his cock. It is overwhelming. Tears fall down his cheeks from how good this is. Steve's mouth is hot, and he's so good with it. Tony is in his element, feeling the company behind him like a warm blanket. He can hear the sounds of a blowjob being given behind him, soft sucking noises and Bucky's breathy moans. He's half-hard, but there's no urgency. They'll be there when he comes down. They're going to be there for each other, he thinks. Always. He doesn't usually think about always. But he will tonight.


	4. How You're Loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How they love Steve.

Bucky loves Steve like a hurricane, fierce, unceasing devotion from the day they met in the backlot masquerading as a playground, a little blond five-year-old running over to a brawny six-year-old who just fell and was holding his left arm and crying. It's the immediate goodness in Steve, the way he'll break himself to do the right thing, and Bucky's gonna be right if it kills him.

Tony loves Steve like a slow burn, soft and crackling, devastating because you know the explosions are coming, ACME rockets, because it's Tony and emotions are involved, but you can ride 'em up and crash on the moon if you want.

Bucky and Tony understand each other, peas in a pod. They share nothing except they're very similar right out of the box. That twisted worldview, the expediency read in tooth and claw, the way what they want is the most important thing whether it's an ice cream cone or Captain America's love. They slink in, a pair of jungle cats, and Steve's plane just crashed in the depths of an impassable forest, so he better learn to tame animals fast. Tony recommends collars and whips, but he's not normal and who wants that anyway? Certainly not Bucky.

Bucky loves Tony like Halloween candy he's going to eat too much of and be sick, but somehow he never is. Tony wants to slide alongside every one of Bucky's synapses and rearrange all the wires, but he can't, so they fuck instead. And always in the background, they love Steve. His ability to hold it together everywhere he has control, but he couldn't possibly control them and knows it. They're not the types to take orders from anyone but him. They figure out in combination what singly was eluding them. Steve just can't think with his dick. Can't talk and fuck. Poor guy.

They can help him with that. Love means never having to say "Get on your knees." And if there is one thing they know how to do, it's talk. He and Bucky keep up a running commentary sometimes, he reprograms a couple of tactical earbuds and they pour filthy, obscene suggestions into Steve's ear while he's out doing public appearances, or Bucky rubs one out, loudly and graphically, while Tony and Steve are in meetings until they have to excuse themselves and make love fast and dirty in a closet on the helicarrier while Bucky laughs low and murmurs in Russian in their ears.

They get in Steve's head like that as much as they can, telling him how beautiful, how good, how much they love him. They love him. It's that simple, and whenever they can get Steve relaxed enough to notice, he really loves that about them, along with everything else.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more.


End file.
